We were sitting at the hardware store, talking about nothing in particular, when an obvious sales guy showed up.

“Hey, fellas!  I’m new in town.”

We blinked in unison, as close to a friendly hello as a bunch of cautious friends will make.

“I see I’m up against a tough crowd.  My name’s Wodwin.”

“Wodmin, I’m Smoot, the hardware store owner.  What can I do fer ya?”

“I’m looking to start up a business in this town, seeing as how I own a bunch of ’em upstate, and wondered if any of you could introduce me to one of your preachers.”

“Well, now, Wodwin, what kinda preacher are you lookin’ for?  Regular Protestant?  Evangelical Protestant? Nonspecific?”

“Don’t matter to me, none.  Just a fella who has his finger on the pulse of his congregation.”

Rog, our resident critic, stood up.  “Wodwin, whot you need a preacher fer?  You got sumthin’ to confess that we need hear about afore it spreads all over town?”

“Naw.  Nothin’ like that.  My daughter’s thinkin’ of gettin’ married and I need to make sure she has a good talk with a preacher before she ties the knot with the ‘man of her dreams.'”

“He somebody we know?”

“I reckon not.  He’s from a different country.  Smoot, you got any suggestions?”

“Ahh…hmm…boys, you think ol’ Reverend Stalvohl would do, in a case like this?”

I nodded.  “Sure.  He’d know what to say to a young lady about the proper conduct of mind afore you settled into the married life.”

Wodwin tipped his hat.  “Fellas, you’ve been a big help.  I’m good with faces so when I see any of you come into my store, I’ll make sure to offer you a special discount.  Have a great day!”

A week later, I ran into the preacher.  “Reverend Stalvohl, heard you was popular.”

“Yes, indeed.  You hardware store regulars have been a’houndin’ me about this new man in town a name of Wodwin.”

“Well, spill the beans.  Any good gossip for us?”

“Not yet.  Wodwin visited with me and spent a long time inquisitatin’ about my views on the evils of alcohol.  I told ‘im I wasn’t sure that alcohol was evil unto itself but the abuse of the firewater led to many a stray soul leavin’ the church.”

“You tell it like it is, Reverend.  You wonder if Wodwin is a drinker?”

“No.  He ain’t.  In fact, he told me he was a teetotaler but that he did own a few liquor stores upstate.  I told him I didn’t judge a man by how he made his money but I sure didn’t think his liquor stores would go over well in this God-fearin’ town.”

“That’s a good one, preacher.  We shore haven’t had a liquor store in these parts in a long time.”

“Indeed.  In any case, Wodwin is sendin’ his daughter over to my place this evenin’, so I’m sure you and the boys will have more to talk about tomorrow.”

The next morning, the hardware store was filled with farmers and handymen.  Seems like word had gotten out that Wodwin’s daughter was not only a looker but a regular student of the Bible.  News had spread she was stoppin’ by the hardware store before lunch so every fella that could get time away from his job had swung by the store on a lame excuse or two.

Smoot turned the store microphone on.  “Boys!  Boys!  Quiet down.  We’ve got a sweet, young lady here who’s asked to speak to ya.  Her’s names Selfketia.  Ma’am, the floor’s all yours.”

“Good morning, everyone!  My name’s Selfketia.  My daddy’s name is Wodwin and I think many of you have met him.  My daddy’s a wonderful man, God-fearin’ just like you, and he wants to open a brand-new store in your town.

“Now, Daddy, he’s got ideas that not everyone is keen on.  He learned from his pappy that alcoholism is a hidden disease that wastes away in even the tiniest communities.

“You’d think Daddy was against the drink.  But what he found, if’n you get folks to talk about alcohol, you bring out the disease and help those who are afflicted find a cure.

“So, if’n you’s against the drink, I invite you to come on down to Reverend Stalvohl’s church on Sunday and listen to his wonderful sermon on the evils of alcohol.

“Thank you for listenin’ to me and have a great day!”

We stood there, not sure what to say.

But, sure enough, come Sunday, we packed Reverend Stalvohl’s church, no matter whether we’d never attended his church or never attended church at all.

The preacher was lively that day, quoting many a verse about the proper and improper use of alcohol, how even Jesus, the first Christian, was known to have a drop or two with meals and invited all of us to drink alcohol in his name.

After the sermon, when many of us were cheered up by Reverend Stalvohl’s words and feelin’ a bit thirsty, we followed directions he’d given us and drove to a store at the end of town.

There stood Wodwin, dressed in his Sunday finest, offering us watered-down wine and homemade mead, both, he assured us, fully approved by the church, along with imported cheese and crackers, all of which he promised would be for sale in his new liquor store.  “…for nonalcoholic patrons only,” Selfketia added.

When the town council referendum came up for approval of a liquor store a couple of weeks later, there weren’t any nays.

I hear that Selfketia’s fiance never followed her to our town and didn’t show up when she went with her daddy to the next town to open their new liquor store.

And me, I opened a BYOB sittin’ porch next door to the liquor store, where we fellas can drink a beer or two, nothin’ more, and discuss the news of the day in more manly, respectable, even gentlemanly manners.  Our wives have gone to servin’ a little wine at their weekly get-togethers, too, givin’ wine-tastin’ parties once a month.

We rooted out the alcoholics pretty quickly, havin’ never noticed the ones who’d sneak out to buy liquor in the next town when we were dry but seein’ ’em stockin’ up here now a lot easier.  The preacher’s workin’ with them on their drinkin’ disease.

The rest of us feel a little more sophisticated when strangers stop in, able to offer ’em a soda pop or sippin’ whiskey at their preference.

And a little extra tax revenue for our small town! 😉